Winter in Full Bloom (21 page)

“Be careful of the tone you use when talking about my mother. Naomi raised me when you were too inconvenienced.” The bite in Camille’s voice was unmistakable.

I leaned forward in my chair. “Camille, it’s not helping to raise your voice. We need to—”

Camille swung back around and glared at me. “We need to what? Cower in the shadows like scared little rabbits? What good did that do all these years? I refuse to be sucked into whatever dysfunction is going on here. We’re going to talk this out now.” She turned her head and coughed.

“I told Lily the truth.” Mother smacked the armrest with her hands, making furious little puffs of dust. “You were taken away from me by my mother.”

“Well, I’m very curious how that came to be,” Camille said, “since your name is also on the adoption papers.”

“I will tell you, but only if you sit down.” Mother pointed to the chair. “I can’t take all this looming about.” She took a sip of water from the glass sitting on the end table, but as she set it back down her hand trembled.

“No.” Camille looked around the room, cracking her knuckles one by one. “I’m not in the mood to sit.”

I gave my sister an imploring expression. “Mother still deserves some respect.”

Something shimmered across my sister’s expression as if she was going to rev up for an argument, but then she relented and sat in the chair next to me.

Mother cleared her throat. “When you both were born, Lily was well, and Camille, you had one illness after the other. You were sick all the time with a never-ending trail of ailments. And one of those times, when you were feverish with a cold and bronchitis, your grandmother, my mother, was holding you. She caught the fever you had and nearly died. After that she never fully recovered her health. Nor do I think … did she ever forgive you.”

“But I was a baby,” Camille said. “How could a grandmother—”

“Because …” Mother raised her finger for silence. “She was a hard woman. Much harder than I am, I can assure you. Now please allow me to finish my story. Back then we had no money to speak of, because your father couldn’t hold down a job. My mother, who was wealthy, refused to help us with the expenses surrounding your doctor bills and hospital stays, claiming that it was her son-in-law’s responsibility to take care of his family, not hers.”

Mother ground her nails into the armrest. “My mother ruled over our lives back then like a tyrant, and I was so young I didn’t know how to stand up to her. Anyway, she convinced us adoption was the only way for us to survive financially. She threatened us, saying she would disinherit us if we didn’t comply with her wishes. She orchestrated the whole affair of finding you a mother, but I insisted it be an open adoption so I could see you from time to time. And I requested that you be allowed to keep your first and middle names. My mother agreed to those two demands and so did the couple who came forward to—”

Camille’s cough turned deeper as if choking.

I rose to help her, but she stayed me with her hand.

“Here, girl, pour yourself some water,” Mother said.

My sister complied and then sat back down with a defiant plop.

I wasn’t sure how long I could swallow my anger toward Mother and her insensitivity toward Camille. I felt a craving to pick at my fingers but instead dug my fingernails into my palms.

“As I was saying,” Mother went on, “a couple came forward who agreed to adopt you, even though they knew about your sickly constitution. I stayed in touch with your adoptive mother, Naomi, for a while, to make sure they treated you well. From all appearances you were in good hands. But then your parents moved around so often, I lost track of you. In the end, I thought it was best to let you go. To let this family take care of you.”

An eerie silence settled over Camille, and then she said, “In a way, this is much worse than I imagined. I was traded in for an inheritance like a person cashes in chips at a casino.”

“Oh, such a gift for drama, just like Lily,” Mother said. “You are identical to your sister. For your information, I didn’t care that much for the money, but your father was keen on it, since he couldn’t hold down a decent job if his life depended on it.”

Camille shook her head as she rose. “So many excuses, so little love.” She walked over to a bookshelf, pulled out a volume, and opened it. “You could have said no to your mother. Pure and simple.”

“Bah. No one said no to her.” Mother took another sip from her water glass. “And it did seem like the most humane way to handle the situation.”

Camille slammed the book shut. “But I was your flesh and blood, not some mongrel dog to dump at the pound!”

“There is more to the story if you can be silent for a moment.” Mother tried to set her water glass on the end table, but it slipped slightly and nearly toppled. She righted the glass, and then her face contorted into a glare as she looked at the portrait of our father on the wall. “Maternity was forced onto me by my husband, you see. I had told him right from the beginning I never wanted to have children. I didn’t have enough motherly instincts for it … but you know how men can be when they want their way about things. So, Camille, be grateful you had Naomi. And Lily, be glad you had some good nannies over the years, especially Nanny Kate. Well, of course none of that came to be until after my mother passed away and we were able to afford it, but my point is there are things to be thankful for in all of this.”

“More excuses. Nothing more.” Camille slipped the book back on the shelf, walked over to the solarium, and placed her palm on the glass the way she’d done the day on the tram. “I feel sorry for Lily, to have had you for a mother … someone who didn’t care about her own children. You didn’t have to follow in your mother’s footsteps, you know. You could have been different. You could have been a great mother, but you chose not to be. It’s as simple and as heartless as that.”

“Watch what you’re saying, girl. I did give you life,” Mother said. “I deserve to be—”

“No. You’re wrong.” Camille said softly. “
God
gave me life.” This time she didn’t turn around.

“Oh, let’s not go down that road,” Mother said. “Leave God out of it.”

I couldn’t restrain my indignation any longer. “That’s been your problem, Mother. You have left God out of everything, including the decisions you made long ago and even now. You’ve come up with explanations today for what happened all those years ago … money problems, illness, lack of natural longings to mother, pressure, whatever. But your reasoning is like a serious crack in a priceless vase. With your excuses you’ve reduced the precious blessing of motherhood into a piece of garage sale rubbish.”

I stood, looking at Mother without turning away. “What Camille didn’t tell you was that she was physically abused by the man you handed her over to. One time she almost died from one of those beatings. Does that rouse any motherly instincts in you?”

“How could I have known that someone who acted like a good father would turn out to be a hooligan?” Mother asked. “How could that possibly—”

“He was far more than a mere hoon, Mrs. Gray,” Camille said from the window. “He belonged in prison.”

“Yes, that’s true.” I turned back to Mother. “My point is … you and Father could have found a way to keep this family together. When I think of my own daughter, Julie, there isn’t anything that could have taken her away from me. Not illness or poverty. Or threats from you or anyone. I would have fought for her until I had no breath left in my body.” My hands tightened into fists until they went numb.

Mother grinned. “So, the Land Down Under has given you some real backbone, I see.”

“No,” I said, “it was always there. I inherited it from you.”

The room got quiet while Mother mulled over a reply that surprised even me.

I wasn’t sure if my last comment was a compliment or a criticism.

Someone tapped on the semi-closed door, making me jump.

I frowned at the interruption. “Please not now, Dragan,” I muttered.

“Hellooo,” a man’s voice could be heard from behind the study door. “Some woman named Dragon said I should let myself in.”

I knew that voice, but it wasn’t possible. “Marcus, is that you?”

“
Lily?” The door swung open
, and there stood Marcus, as handsome and sunny and cheeky as ever. Even though it had only been a short time since I’d seen him last, oh how I had missed that blue-eyed twinkle.

“Marcus.” I strode over to him, and he took me into his arms. “What are you doing here?” I folded into his embrace, a place that felt good and right and safe. Even his green silk shirt felt inviting. He’d brought Australia with him, and every memory made there.

“I’m here because of the weather,” he said.

I chuckled. “What does that mean?”

Marcus pulled away and held me by my shoulders. “The weather got too cold without you. Couldn’t stand it for one more minute.”

I laughed a laugh brimming with delight. I felt like a child on Christmas morning.

My mother cleared her throat. “So, who are you?”

Her voice shook me back to reality.

As Marcus walked toward Mother, he nodded to my sister. “Good to see you.”

“Hi, Marcus. What a happy surprise,” Camille said.

Marcus gave my sister a wave. “Thanks.” Then he bowed slightly to Mother. “You must be Mrs. Gray. I can see where the twins get their beauty.”

Mother laughed, but it was more blustery than buoyant. “Who are you, besides being a liar?”

“I am Marcus Averill from Melbourne. And I have been called many things in my life, but never a liar.” He reached out his hand so decisively that Mother reached out and allowed him to give her hand a small shake.

“Mother, Marcus and I became good friends while I was there.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “We are a bit more than good friends, Lily, dear.” He turned back to Mother.

Mother shifted in her chair, examining Marcus as if he were a specimen in a jar. “Are you here on business?”

Marcus looked back at her with a curious glint. “No, I’m here for Lily. She took Australia by storm, you see, and the continent has not quite recovered. At least I haven’t.”

“Bah.” Mother flubbered out a mouthful of air. “Are you really saying that you came all the way here from Australia for Lily?”

“Yes, Mrs. Gray,” Marcus said, “that is exactly what I’m saying.”

Mother donned a dubious expression. “Why in the world?”

I wanted to groan at Mother’s insensitive response, but Marcus simply replied, “Because when Lily left me we needed more time to explore our feelings for each other. By coming here … I’m giving us that time.”

“Mother, aren’t you going to invite Marcus to sit down?”

“No worries.” Marcus put up his hands. “I see that I’ve intruded, so I’ll be on my way back to the Silver Bayou Inn. Lily, I’m hoping to see you later today for dinner. We have each other’s cell phone numbers.” Then he turned to my mother. “It was good to meet you, Mrs. Gray.” He gave Camille a friendly wave, and then after a wink directed at me, he quickly made his departure.

All I could think to do next was escape from Mother’s stuffy old mansion and spend the rest of the day with Marcus and Camille. I couldn’t believe that he’d come so quickly—that he cared that much. My whole body felt like one enormous grin.

“Well, I’m zonked,” Camille suddenly said. “I’d like to go back to your house, Lily.” She turned to Mother. “Mrs. Gray, it’s been… well, enlightening.”

Mother made a snuffling noise I hadn’t heard before. Did she have the beginnings of a cold? “Well, you’ve come all this way,” she said. “You might as well visit me once more before you go back to Melbourne.”

“It depends on how I feel,” Camille said, sounding more weary than usual.

“So, you never recovered your health in all these years?” Mother asked.

“No, I never did. But I’m alive and grateful.” Camille pulled a small package out of her pocket. “I almost forgot. I brought you a lamington. I wanted you to have something sweet from Melbourne. Thought you might like it.” She set the little Aussie cake down on the coffee table.

“Lamington?” Mother said, gaping at the little sponge cake. “I don’t usually indulge in such nonsense, but maybe this one time.”

“Well, hoo-roo,” Camille said.

“What did you call me?” Mother asked.

Camille grinned. “It means goodbye.”

“Oh. Goodbye then.” Mother leaned forward and watched Camille walk out the door with more curiosity than I would have imagined. She even reached for the cube-shaped cake and placed it on her lap.

But Camille never glanced back to see the inquisitive expression on Mother’s face.

“Goodbye, Mother.” A “thank you” for finding her daughter would have been appreciated, but it certainly wasn’t expected. I walked out of the study and shut the door. Dragan had vanished like a dust devil in a rain shower. We were more than happy to let ourselves out.

“Well, what did you think of Mother?” I asked Camille when we were settled in my car. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

Camille laced her fingers together on her lap. “I do feel sorry for you. To have grown up that way. It really must have been difficult. She is a hard woman with some serious issues. And I agree that somehow, even though she doesn’t admit to any guilt over what happened, the past has made her bitter and miserable. She needs a good cleansing of the soul.”